The Fallen, The Forgotten, and The Devil
by writingyoualetter
Summary: This is a story about the daughter of one of the many generations of Gods


Here is my story. The story of an artist on rampage. A rampage so fierce that it drove even the parasites away. Maybe an artist who writes things down creates a new form of beauty. A new form of creativity. This story has no beauty and all the creativity in it is a sick form of torture. That's what I do. I torture tormented souls. That is my trade, and where my art is shown. This is why God and his followers sent me here. Of course you would never know that God really is an evil tyrant in heaven, now would you? I was trying to look out for the well being of my people. Angels can't be killed. Just punished. That's why I'm here, instead of long dead. He punished me in the only way he knew how. I am the cause of millions of children's pain. Women. Men. Evil. Good. Misplaced. God sent his own daughter here and renamed me: Devil, the creator of hell.

Now day in and day out, I torment the souls of the dead. All because I tried to take the place of my senile father, as generation after generation has. True, there has never been a female on throne before, but the only female that has been born into the family is me. One rules until they have a child, and once the child comes of age, they take the throne. Or he I should say. When I was born there was a tremendous uproar. The older male members of Heaven refused a woman to rule them, and the older women have become so humble, they dared not speak. The younger men and women were ready to see some struggle and change, since there hadn't been anything big since their birth. This would be the biggest change since the creation of the earth. My mother, beautiful woman that she was, stood up to my father, who was ready to get rid of me. She was a just soul, who always stood up for what was right. She would have made a wonderful leader, but she was always kept from her rightful place as my father's right hand. My father feared my mother. She had powers no one else understood. The angels stood down with my father. He wasn't the only one who feared her.

I lived happily with my mother for a long time. My mother taught me some of her magiks, and showed me the entire kingdom, from the angel's prison to the highest courts. My mother helped those who needed it, unlike the other angels who avoided them. My mother looked different than any other angels I'd ever seen. Pale skin, violet eyes, and black hair, to the normal blue eyes, dark skin, and blond or brown hair. My mother had no wings, just scars from where they had been torn away. My mother said that she would tell me how once I was older. She made no effort to cover her scars, and I wondered if it was a reminder to her, or those around her.

My father was increasingly nervous around my mother. She never seemed to notice, or act, in anyway, different. I was never really sure why father was so scared of her, because she never had any malice and never even raised her voice. I finally understood when, one day, my mother did lose her temper because my father had been thinking of getting rid of me again, and there was this horrible black darkness that filled the whole room. I heard the screams of tortured beings, and the cries of the long forgotten. Pain crippled every part of my body, and then quickly returned to normal. My mother was pinned to the ground by four angels who had the same characteristics as she did, but with the addition of black wings. I would have been extremely fascinated, if I wasn't so nauseous and scared. My mother batted the angels off her and ran to my side. She comforted me through all the nightmares I had following the incident. She really did blame herself, but eventually the nightmares went away.

Then my mother was stolen from us. Well, me really, because everyone seemed that much happier without her. No longer was there a voice of reason. One morning, when I went to her chambers, I found the place in disarray. Most of her books had been burned, but the ones about her magik were intact. There was no trace of my mother, and I screamed for help. When no one came, I opened my mouth to scream again, but all the sudden I felt a fire burning inside me. I dropped to the floor, and my scream came out as a whimper. When I awoke later in the hospital, I learned that my magiks had devastated that whole wing of dormitories. My father confiscated the books on magik, in hope there would never be anyone to rival his strength again. I knew I had the same powers as my mother, if not more, but they lay dormant unless there was a great need of them, or unless I could train them.

Sometime later, I had come of age. We don't keep time in Heaven like humans do; we don't have years, months, days, or hours. I decided now that I was of age I would claim my throne. My father had not gotten rid of me because he still feared my mother, even after all this time. I was counting on that same fear to make my father stand down. My powers were there, but I did not know how to use them all, or even control some, and I knew I needed those books. I had thought on this for a long period of time and decided that if he would not offer, I would remind him who rightfully owned the throne. I had searched and knew there were no specific rules against a woman taking throne, and even though my father was in control he could not deny my rights. I was his heir and I would get what was mine.

When I finally got a conference with my father, I stalked in and refused to look up where my father sat. His throne was made of the bones of evil beings. If that is not an example of his power, I don't know what is. The angels have only let him rule this long because there is no male heir, and they aren't sure which is worse: a power hungry God, or a female Goddess.

"Father!" I called, "Surely you can see your daughter, your flesh and blood, face to face?"

"Young daughter," he scathingly replied, "Whatever you should want, and surely you could look up to your father, because I am who brought your ungrateful self here."

My eyes must have flashed angrily because he slowly brought his chair down to my level. I looked down at his face and was grateful I inherited my mother's facial structure.

"Father, I have come of age, and you grow more senile by the day. It is time for me to take my place on the throne. I know what needs to be done, and I remember things in the past, while you, father, are losing touch with reality. You have ruled a long time, but times are in need of changing." His face turned red and I could almost hear his thoughts. He has tried his damnest to make me miserable my whole life, but also he did it in a way that wouldn't anger my mother. His fear of my mother fascinates me. He knew if the throne was given to me, I would be happy, but if it wasn't my mother would be furious. Not that she was around to do anything about it. Once he lost the throne, he lost his power and everyone who respected him. I never thought he would twist it so much.

He stood and got right in my face, spittle flying from his withered lips. "Dear daughter, what you don't know is that no one wants you to rule. I am God. There has never been a Goddess and I will see to it that there never will." He whispered, so close that not even his angel guards could hear. Then he collapsed. I gasped and jumped back as his body hit the floor. "Guards! An assignation attempt! She's using her mother's evil powers. Capture her." I feel a slight pressure on my temple before my shock even fades away.

I awoke and immediately realized where I was. Annmarkic. The angel Prison. The black walls and floor are made from a dark matter that dissolves sprit energy, to keep any angels who have a mind of their own. Apparently I had become a Nonamar. A marked angel. A demon. My wing feathers had turned from white to pure black and my violet eyes were now red. My skin was pale as ivory and my nails were black as night. My teeth were shiny black and pointed, and my once brown hair had also turned pitch black. As I wept I saw that my tears had become crimson and thick. I controlled the tremors racking my body and controlled my breathing. I was not yet gone and I knew I was still in Heaven, so maybe they had realized that my father was insane.

A hole formed in the wall and I backed away. A hard bodied demon entered, and I stared at her.

"Demons control the fallen angels. We, who committed crimes long forgotten, are released only to wander the halls of this hell and control those just like us." She supplied at my confounded look, but that's not why I looked that way. She was the most beautiful being I had seen in all my life and I have lived a long time. Her body was perfectly proportioned, and her voice was too. Deep and throbbing like the ocean. I felt my self blush as I realized I was still staring at her.

"I know... 'The forgotten shall remember those who fall after them.' I believe that rule was made..." I cocked my head to the side and thought for a moment before finishing, "Hmmmmm... I believe it was after Lariel was over come by a forgotten and ..." I trailed off, remembering Lariel's Beaten and maimed body. "She was the first defiled angel." I whispered, "She was senesced to a life on earth. She was... my best friend." I felt a lump in my throat as I remembered the pain I'd felt when I accidentally brushed Lariel's hand. I am extra sensitive to emotions, and feel anyone I touch's emotions, whether I like it or not.

The demon turned her deep blue eyes on me and hesitated. I looked up at her and she stumbled backward and fled out the door. Another demon entered shortly after her departure and quizzically turned to me. He fit my neck with a sprit collar and led me out the room. In another room I'm bound by my wrists, lower arms, upper arms, ankles, calves, thighs, midsection, hips, chest, and neck. I wondered what they were thinking I will try to do, because all those bindings had containment spells and power drainers on them. Surely I was not such a powerful demon yet. The room was white and the floor was splattered redish brown paint. A male demon with uncharacteristically white hair walked up with a blade in his hand. I knew some of what blood does to demons. It sends them into a crazed lust and a viscous rage. I tried to jerk away as he reaches for my palm, but I couldn't move. Fortunately the bonds had also cut out my emotional sensitivity, so all I felt was my own physical pain as the blade cut shallowly into my palm.

The blood seemed not to bother him as he moved to add more shallow cuts up and down my body. I figured if this was supposed to be a form of torture, they were failing miserably. Blood pooled around my feet, and, as I looked down, I realized that it was not paint that crisscrossed the once pure white floor. My eyes filled with fear as I jerked my head up to look at the demon who was licking the blade clean, venom in his eyes. I shivered and opened my mouth to speak.

"What has happened here?" I whispered. He didn't look up, so I figured he couldn't hear. "What are you going to do to me?!" I screamed. He jumped and looked at my frightened face. He grinned evilly and grabbed a fist full of my layered white dress, ripping it until it barely covered my body. The exposed flesh goose bumps in the cold air, unprotected and innocent.

"Just wait princess. What we did to Lariel will look like a slap on the hand compared to what will happen to you. Did you never realize that all the defiled angels were people you got close to?" He hissed maliciously. My horrified look must have been answer enough, because he chuckled and sheathed his knife. "You know your blood is the most tantalizing I've ever smelled... It's extremely hard for even me, and no one has been able to even tempt me before. A' due." He turned with effort and exited through a wall. I tried to free myself, tugging one way and pulling another. I don't know what happened to Lariel, but I knew it went far beyond physical pain.

I looked up as I heard someone else enter the room. For a moment I was blinded by my own fear and rage, but, as it started to clear, I found myself looking at the beautiful shedemon I had seen earlier. I reached out to her as she approached. She hesitated a foot away, pain apparent in her eyes. She looked unsure about being here, and I knew she wasn't supposed to be. I wanted to tell her to run, to flee before she got in trouble, but my own fear needed someone to comfort me.

"Please," I whispered, holding in my tears, "Help me." All hesitation disappeared when she saw my fear. She crossed the space between us and came so close we were almost touching.

"Do you know what they are planning to do to you?" She asked eyes pleading.

"Y-yes." I hic-upped.

"Your father wants you to give birth to a male heir, so he can rule, not you. He was going to force..." She trailed off and then picked up again on something else, "You don't want this, do you?"

"N-no." I half sobbed, "I'm...scared." She straightened up and pulled out a key. She inserted the key in all the locks, excluding my collar. I looked confused, and she elaborated.

"New borns sometimes can't control their powers. That with your mother's already potent magiks, we don't want to risk you losing yourself. I've been spreading word of your predicament to the other forgotten, and the fallen. They sympathize, and think, after demon training you could even defeat your father. They are prepared to go with you, train you, and then you can claim the throne that is rightfully yours." She hurriedly informed me. I was confused. Where could they train me in Heaven? No matter where we went, surely my father would realize that was what they were doing. Even he isn't that oblivious.

I was scared, tired, angry, and bleeding but I had a renewed hope. Maybe somehow I could still over throw my father, but without my magik, what advantage did I have over a God? As if she was reading my thoughts, the demon answered my questions.

"Never forget: Even if you aren't a God, you sure as hell are a Goddess." I smiled in spite of everything. This woman knew exactly what to say to someone like me, didn't she? I was curious about one more thing, but it would have to wait because I was exhausted. I had time to put my hand in hers before I completely collapsed.


End file.
